


Every now and then I fall apart

by lanyon



Series: Bad Boy Boogie [13]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bonnie Tyler or gtfo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:46:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5758249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kent doesn't come out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every now and then I fall apart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haipollai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/gifts).



> +For Sarah, who's always there. ♥  
> +Warnings for a media attempt to out Kent Parson.  
> +Title from Bonnie Tyler. Is it stuck in your head now? You're welcome.  
> +Enormous thanks to everyone who's been so amazingly supportive. I expect to be too busy to update for the remainder of the week so hopefully this little hat-trick of updates will ease the pain.

When Kent gets the call to stop by PR, he doesn't think anything of it. A lot of his off-ice commitments seem to revolve around Aces public relations and charity work and he's pretty surprised when he sees Addison sitting with Shelly and Rob. He sits down opposite them.

When Shelly slides a print-out of a website page across the desk, Kent's heart starts to pound.

_Kent Parson Bisexual?  
Pictures emerged this weekend of Kent Parson, captain of the Las Vegas Aces and arguably the best American player in the league, in a close embrace between pop starlet, Christmas Aitken, and her rapper boyfriend, Solace._

_We're inclined to take these rumours with a pinch of salt, despite the incriminating photographs, even though the Aces already have the NHL's only openly gay player on their roster, in Gabriel Charbonneau_.

“What the fuck does Charbo have to do with this?” he asks, looking indignantly across the table. 

Shelly and Rob look at each other and then look at Kent and he doesn’t quite understand their expressions. 

“Ah. That’s what worries you most about this?” asks Shelly, tentatively.

Kent blinks and looks down at the page again. 

“The question is, what should we do about it?” Addison sits back, steepling her fingers together. 

“Can’t we just ignore it?” asks Kent. “It’s bullshit.”

“Absolutely,” says Shelly. “Though it’s very likely that, sooner or later, someone will want to ask you directly about these photographs and I’d far rather we had control of the narrative. A simple statement might do.”

“A statement saying what?” asks Kent. 

Rob shrugs. It’s always freaked Kent out, how he and Shelly seem to read each other’s minds and finish each other’s thought processes. “Something denying the speculation but also being supportive of LGBT and minorities.” 

Kent snorts. “Yeah, no. That’s not going to work for me.”

Addison looks up sharply because she knows. She’s been Kent’s agent since he was a teenager and she’s known all along. “Are you—”

“I’m not bisexual,” says Kent, to Shelly and Rob, who nod in creepy unison. “I’m gay.”

They stop nodding, like bobble-heads cut off in their prime. 

“You—”

“Oh.”

“Who knows?”

“My family,” says Kent. “My agent.” Addison’s expression doesn’t change but she doesn’t deny it. “The Zimmermanns. Charbo. Jeff, I guess.” He shrugs. “I think that’s it. It hasn’t really come up, you know?” 

Shelly nods and Rob shakes his head. 

“Do you want to come out?” asks Addison.

Kent thinks for a moment. He slumps a little in his seat and looks at the picture of himself with that popstar again. He’s playing really well at the moment. Up till the All-Star Game, he had another points-streak, of nine games. The All-Star Game itself was a lot of fun, even if Charbo couldn’t go. 

If he comes out, it’ll be a distraction to the team. He’s familiar enough with the concept of off-ice distractions, which seem to cover every manner of sin and crime. He wrinkles his nose with distaste at the thought of his sexuality being portrayed as something wrong. When Charbo came out, there was a flurry of opinion about what it might mean for the Aces and the NHL and Kent knows that, of all the team, he dealt with it the worst. 

Finally, he shakes his head. “Not — not now. The season’s going well. Not now.” 

Shelly shakes her head and Rob nods. 

“What about Charbonneau?” asks Addison, out of nowhere.

“I don’t — what about him?” 

Addison gives him this significant look and Kent blinks. “Oh. Oh, no. We’re not— Wait. What?” 

“My mistake,” says Addison. “I know you’re close, that’s all.” 

“He’s my best friend,” says Kent because that is most of a truth. Charbo’s still recovering from his concussion and it seems to be taking a long time, and the last thing Kent wants to do is expose him to more speculation. He thinks this is the right choice, for now. “We ignore the photographs. They have no right. If Aitken and Solace want to make something of them, we’ll come back to it but nothing happened that night and that’s the truth.”

Nothing happened that night because Kent went home to his best friend, and kissed him, and climbed into bed with him, and eased away the next morning, fingers untangling unhappily, as Kent had to leave him behind for another roadtrip.

♠

 **Las Vegas Aces** @lasvegasaces • 48m  
Aces’ all-stars return to victory over the Wild and #captainourcaptain @kentparson continues his point streak.

 **Las Vegas Aces** @lasvegasaces • 54m  
Injury update: Charbonneau unlikely to return for at least six weeks, says Giddings.

♠

Gabriel wakes up, early. The sun hasn’t come up yet and it’s probably his favourite time of day, before the light gets too bright for his eyes. He stirs and then realises that he’s not on his own. It doesn’t surprise him anymore. He lets out a soft sigh and turns onto his side.

Kent opens his eyes and smiles at him. 

“Hey, kid,” he says, hoarsely. “How’re the brains?”

“Mmm, brains,” says Gabriel. He puts out his hand and rests the tips of his fingers on Kent’s cheek. 

“Not mine, zombie-buddy,” says Kent, though he turns his face towards Gabriel’s hand, hiding his smile against Gabriel’s palm. “Yours still scrambled?” 

Carefully, Gabriel inches closer, letting his hand trail down to Kent’s shoulder. He can’t look away from Kent’s face; it’s like their gazes are locked to each other. 

“Kent,” says Gabriel. He’s not sure he’s imagining the way Kent’s shaking his head slightly so he pulls back a little.

“Gotta get to practice. Jeff’s gonna be here soon.”

“Does he think it’s weird?” asks Gabriel. His words are a little slurred.

“There’s literally nothing in the world that Jeff thinks is weird,” says Kent, with such assurance that Gabriel figures it must be true. 

Kent sits up and Gabriel moans and hides his face in the pillow. Everything is still for a moment and then Gabriel can feel the bed moving as Kent leaves it. Gabriel jumps when he feels a hand on the back of his head, smoothing over what little hair is there. 

“Feel better, Charbo,” whispers Kent and Gabriel turns his head a little to peer up at Kent, who’s little more than a shadow in the dim room. 

Kent seems to hesitate a moment, swaying on his feet, before he leans down and presses a kiss to the corner of Gabriel’s mouth. 

“Get those brains unscrambled. We need you back on the team,” he whispers and Gabriel lies still as Kent leaves the room, feeling confused in a way that has nothing to do with his concussion.

♠

Kent Parson Coming Up Trumps  
Following last season’s disappointment in the Stanley Cup Finals, it seems that Kent Parson has taken it as a personal affront and is determined to see the Aces qualify for playoffs as early as possible. Following his record-breaking thirty-one game points-streak, he’s embarked on a series of shorter streaks and is, at this point, likely unstoppable in the race for the Art Ross. 

“I just go out there and play each game,” he says. Parson has joined me in a breakfast bar near his home in Las Vegas, wearing his, by now, trademark snapback, paired with a somewhat-oversized Aces hoodie. He’s not going undercover today. “It helps that we have such a great group of guys here. Everyone pulls together and if they pass me the puck at the end of a play, I’m gonna do my best to bury it.”

And bury it, he does. The previous evening, Parson was first star in the game against the Canucks, on the strength of another brace of goals. When asked if he thinks that Las Vegas is becoming a hockey town, he has this to say: “I think Vegas became a hockey town when the Aces set up. The support we’ve gotten, all along, is amazing. We want to win for our fans, of course.”

During our interview, there’s a steady stream of people who approach our table for autographs and Parson apologises to me, every time, but he doesn’t turn down a single request for a photograph or an autograph. 

Kent Parson is definitely one of hockey’s good guys. There’s a lingering suspicion amongst hockey reporters that we’ll never quite know him; he’s always scrupulously polite and invariably gives inoffensive answers but I can’t help but feel that there’s a lot more going on behind that polite facade. 

I ask him if he’s good at poker, which prompts a burst of entirely unexpected laughter. 

“Oh no. I think I’m probably the worst on the team. I’ll take my chances with the slot machines.”

Well, he’s in the right town for it but when it comes to being on the ice, Kent Parson doesn’t rely on luck.

♠

Kent gets a text from Charbo. _Great interview. Tried calling you. Going back to Montreal for a while. Beefy set me up with docs there. Hopefully back in Vegas before end of season._

Immediately, Kent calls him. “Aw, shit. The end of the season?”

“I know, Parse.” Charbo sounds subdued at the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, kid, _jesus_ ,” says Kent. “Just get better.” Kent doesn’t know whether it usually takes this long to get over concussion but, then again, Crosby was out for a year. “Have you, uh, talked to the love of your life?” he asks. He hopes he sounds teasing enough. 

He hears a gulp at the other end of the phone. “Oh.” Charbo sounds surprised, and maybe even amused. “Oh, yeah. Sid’s been great.”

Kent doesn’t feel jealous of Sidney Crosby often but he regrets bringing him up. 

“Kent,” says Charbo, softly. “I know we haven’t talked much.” It’s true. They have kissed and they have slept in the same bed but they haven’t really talked. “But you’ve — you’ve been amazing. You’ve, like, hardly been a dick at all.”

Kent laughs because he can’t help it. “Thanks, Charbo.”

“Seriously, though. I — shit. I need you to know how much — how much it means to me. Like, even knowing you is pretty great, when you’re not an asshole but, yeah.” Charbo takes a breath and Kent isn’t sure if he’s expected to say something and he’s not sure what he can say, right now. “Look, Kent. I need to get better.” 

Kent’s heart sinks.

“I need to get better and then I can tell you I’m crazy about you and remember that I told you, yeah?”

“Jesus, _Charbo_ — “

“Please don’t say anything, I just. It’s a placeholder, yeah. I’ll come back to it.”

“Come back to _me_ ,” whispers Kent.

“Obviously,” says Charbo. “I’ll text you when I get to Montreal, okay?”

♠

 **Las Vegas Aces** @lasvegasaces • 18m  
#captain @kentparson scores another hattie. in other news, sales of hats in las vegas have skyrocketed. 

♠

“How bad is it, Doc?” asks Kent. He feels sick with the pain. His eyes are screwed shut, with his arm flung over them. 

“It’s going to have to come off,” says Dr Sun. 

Kent’s eyes fly open. “What the _fuck_?”

“I’m afraid my son doesn’t have a sense of humour when his peripheries are concerned,” says Kent’s dad. “It’s a character flaw. We never could train him out of it.”

“You’ve broken your ankle, Mr Parson,” says Dr Sun, who’s always been a total fucker in a way that Kent usually respects, and even aspires to. “You’ll need an operation, for sure.”

“Recovery time?” asks Kent, through gritted teeth. 

“Realistically? Eight weeks.”

♠

Aces’ luck runs out  
It seemed impossible that the Aces would fail to equal their runner-up achievement of last year. In fact, there was really only one possible scenario in which that might happen. Unfortunately for the Aces, the worst has occurred and their captain and goal machine, Kent Parson, is out for at least eight weeks, with a broken ankle. That recovery time takes him past the Stanley Cup finals. 

♠

Kent is at the final game in Tampa, when the Aces lose in game seven of the Stanley Cup final. He is so, so fucking proud of his guys. Of course, he’s Kent Parson and there’s always going to be part of him that loves being the most important guy on the team but he’s also their captain and he wants only good things for them. 

He goes onto the ice, on his crutches, to commiserate with them. Kivs has to be helped from his goal. He’s been carrying an injury for the past three games but he’s been monumental, in spite of it. 

In the locker room, afterwards, when Giddings has said his piece and Beastly, as captain, has said his, Kent stands up and he tells his guys how proud he is of them. He’s pretty emotional because he feels like he’s let them down, but he loves them and he tells them so.

Afterwards, he sits down next to Jeff, who’s down to his undershirt.

“That wasn’t so bad was it, Parse?” he asks. “Having all those emotions?”

Kent snorts. “Just hand me the fucking beer, man.”

♠

 **Las Vegas Aces** @lasvegasaces  
Next year boys! 

**WE ARE BEASTLY** @acesgrrl  
my heart is legit broken. did you see jfo and parse on the ice? 

**battleborn** @battlebornhockey  
@acesgrrl lineys for ever. is it bad that i kind of ship it?

♠

Back in Vegas, Kent is one of the last to go to empty his locker. He’s got five more days with the crutches and then he’s got a summer of physio ahead of him. He already feels exhausted at the prospect. 

He stands for a moment, in the empty locker room, looking at his seat. Beastly’s locker is to the left and Kivs’ to the right. He looks at his crutches, leaning against his seat, with irritation. There’s arrogance and there’s knowing that he would have been the difference between being runners-up and being champions. 

He’s not sure how long he’s standing there, careful not to put too much weight on his injured ankle, when someone behind him clears their throat. He turns around. 

“Charbo,” he breathes. 

Charbo’s looking really good. Kent can’t help looking him up and down. It’s strange seeing Charbo in regular clothes when they spend so much of their time in either sweats or suits. Like most hockey players, skinny jeans aren’t exactly an option. Charbo’s wearing combats that seem to sit pretty low on his hips, and he’s wearing a long-sleeved, snugly-fitting navy Henley that appears to be struggling with the task at hand, if the task is containing Charbo's shoulders. His hair is still short but, at the front, it’s threatening to curl. 

“I got the all-clear,” says Charbo and he’s smiling. “Back to full training for the summer.” He holds his hands up. “All un-scrambled.” 

“ _Charbo_ ,” says Kent, again. 

Charbo’s smile doesn’t slip, as he walks towards Kent. “I thought I was the one with concussion, Parse, and you were the one with the bum ankle.” 

Kent’s hands are on Charbo’s shoulders before he quite knows what’s happening. Charbo’s arms are around Kent’s waist and then his lips are on Kent’s and, for the first time in too many months, Charbo’s the one taking the lead and this isn’t a stolen kiss, glancing over a cheek or a temple. This is something else entirely; a statement, in lieu of the words that they’re both going to have to attempt, one of these days. Eventually, Charbo pulls back and he’s breathing hard, but he’s smiling. 

“Charbo.” 

“I swear to fuck, Charbo, if you broke him, we’re not gonna get a refund.” 

Charbo spins around to see Jeff strolling into the locker room and Kent swallows down his panic because, of all people who could have walked in, it’s Jeff, who knows more than he ever admits to. He watches, his hands still on Charbo’s shoulders, as Jeff upends the contents of his locker into his duffel. 

“Have a good summer, boys,” says Jeff, as he leaves. 

“We will,” says Charbo, looking at Kent.

Kent looks back helplessly, and smiles.


End file.
